Leaf on The Water
by deletrear
Summary: If Harry ever met with those Peverell brothers, she was going to Jinx them an inch within their life. [Time Travel (sort of), AU, FemHarry. Removed second chapter - it's a one-shot now!]
**inspired by:** _Dwellers of the Holly Trees_ by _Tsume_Yuki_ **
disclaimer:** disclaimed  
 **words:** 1,737  
 **notes:** I accidentally fell into fem Harry hell. Here we go. Older sister!Harry fic involving reincarnation because magic. Personally, I have a lot of discourse with femHarry's naming situation but then this happened. Nice. She's named after the wood of Lily's wand and her personality in henceforth inspired by willow fairies.

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Leaf on the Water

 _Chapter One: The Willow Leaf Floated Back_

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Having a child at nineteen was something a young Lily Evans would have balked at.

While she would never demonize young mothers, especially considering her own mother had been pregnant with Tuney by the time she married at eighteen, the idea of having a child straight out of school wasn't exactly _appealing_ to her. You see, Lily Evans had _plans_ and such plans could not be interfered with. She would graduate college with honors and take the world by storm, you see, and it would be marvelous. She would be the first woman Prime Minister! There was no space in her plans for children or boyfriends.

And then Hogwarts happened. Truthfully, on its own—as bewitching (pfft, _bewitching_ ) as the school was—the magical castle would not have been enough to derail her lifelong plans, dedicated as Lily was to her dreams of ushering her country into a new age. But then, Hogwarts _wasn't_ on its own.

Because with Hogwarts came _James Potter_.

And with _James Potter_ came—well, with him came a lot of things, multiple migraines notwithstanding. But that was to be expected; Lily had known he would be a boatload of trouble for her the moment she'd laid eyes on them, though not like _this_.

Not like being pregnant not one year out of Hogwarts.

Even with the toe-rag having proclaimed that they'd have many beautiful kids the day they'd met, Lily . . . really had not seen this one coming.

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"Er, pardon me?" Harry really must have heard that wrong. "Did you just say reincarnation?"

The cloaked figure before him didn't sigh, though that didn't mean it was impressed with Harry. It just meant it wasn't human enough to understand what sighing implied—kist as well. Harry couldn't imagine he'd feel very confident standing before Death if Death were capable of expressing His disappointment. "That is exactly what I said."

Death's voice wasn't one voice so much as it was many voices, male and female, old and young, layered on top of each other. It was grating to listen to, displeasing to the ear in every way, but Harry didn't exactly have a lot of choices here. Still, as much as listening to Death speak made Harry want to crawl into a dark hole and shovel dirt into his ears, He said a _lot_ of interesting things.

Like _this_. "Reincarnation, huh..." Harry squinted. "Are You barking? Why would I want to be reincarnated?"

Death radiated annoyance at that. "It doesn't matter what you _want_ ," His multi-voice nearly snarled, "What matters are the options that are laid before you. Reincarnation is one of the few options you have instead of moving on."

"And becoming a ghost being the other?" Harry crinkled his nose. "I still don't like that idea." The idea of lingering around on Earth while the world went on around him, the constant odd-one-out, to never be affected by the rising and falling of the world, was wholey unappealing to the nineteen year old man. He ruffled his hair with his hands in thought. He supposed reincarnation was one step above ghost-hood, though he would have much preferred boarding a one-way train directly to the afterlife.

Not, he seethed, that that was an option.

If Harry had the option to summon _and_ interact with the dead, the first thing he would do was summon all three of the Peverell brothers to punch them in the noses.

You see, Harry's problem stemmed from a string of choices that were connected to him by barely a thread—which wasn't so much as surprising as it was very irritating. When those Peverell brother's cheated Death, Death had put a curse on the three Hallows so that whoever reuniting the objects would never be allowed into the afterlife. When He cursed these objects, He had fully intended for the curse to befall the last brother, who Death had been certain would collect the other two Hallows after he heard of his brother's deaths. When the last brother had simply continued life with only the cloak, Death had no choice but to allow him into the afterlife, and the curse on the Hallows remained dormant, awaiting someone of Peverell blood to reunite them once again.

That unlucky bloke just so happened to be Harry.

(It _always_ 'just so happened' to be Harry.)

Fortunately, Death happened to be a—not _sympathetic_ —but fair being, and so had offered alternatives for Harry. Unsurprisingly, fresh from a vampire raid that had taken his life, Harry wasn't all too pleased to here he couldn't see his parents after all this time. While initially Harry had been a compressed ball of righteous fury and indignation, he'd been stewing in bad circumstances literally since before he was born, and after throwing the (rightful and completely warranted) tantrum to end all tantrums, he let it go.

Well, actually, no he hadn't. He was going to keep this chip on his shoulder for as long as he lived and _afterwards._ Those Peverell brother's shoulder have just gone the long way around instead of cheating Death— _especially_ since _they_ weren't the ones reaping the consequences. Once again, ladies and gentlemen, Harry James Potter's infamous luck. More at six.

"You haven't given me much here," Harry shuffled his feet. "I mean, becoming a ghost or reincarnation? It's obvious what I'm going to choose."

"Not really," Responded Death airily. "Humans prefer familiarity. Reincarnation is a random draw spread across many galaxies, universes and planets; reincarnation isn't a popular option among the masses for the same reason that you, I suspect, find it appealing."

"Offer reincarnation to a lot of people, do You?"

"I don't make a habit of it." If Death had the capability, He would have arched His eyebrow. "Do not take your time making this decision. I have duties. You are not the center of the universe, Peverell."

Harry winced, scrunching up his nose and running his hand through his hair. "I should _hope_ not," He muttered before huffing.

There wasn't much to think about—after listening to Nearly Headless Nick's poetic mourning and his regret that he hadn't decided to move on, Harry's delusions of ghost-hood weren't in the grandeur category. As nice as the idea of lingering around to watch Neville teach at Hogwarts or Professor McGonagall improve the school brick by brick, Harry had enough foresight to know that they, unlike him, could not last forever. Death came for everyone not cursed by the arrogant decisions of their ancestors, after all.

"Alright then," Said Harry, shrugging, "Reincarnate me, O' Death, Destroyer of Worlds."

"Cheeky." Death deadpanned, before dismissively waving His hand. "Let's hope you aren't reincarnated as a child of Zeus."

Harry's eyes widened and he balked. " _Zeus is real_ — _"_ he wanted to say, but was cut off by Death pulling back His hood. Death's real face was _light;_ a skyscraper of divine energy, and it was marvelous. Harry felt honored to be able to gaze upon His true visage and the full weight of what Death was dawned upon him. Here was a being who wasn't dark or imposing like myth had suggested, nor was he malicious, or gentle or kind or, or, or _anything_ like Harry had thought.

Death was neutral in all possible ways, the ultimate end, the ultimate truth. He was Fair.

Harry closed his eyes and opened his arms to greet Death.

 _Well,_ thought Harry as a cool-warm-hot feeling embraced him like an old friend, the comfort of a mother's hug, the _welcome home_ of a best friend and wife, _here goes nothing._

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James Potter stared at his beautiful, bashful wife and choked. "You're _what?_ "

"I think you heard me well enough, James," Lily covered her face with her hands. A helpless grin pulled at her lips despite how inappropriate it was so she tried half-heartedly to smother it.

"But you—I—you're really—?" James hazel eyes were blown wide, a nervous jump to his right leg as he dared not hope...

Lily smiled, giving up on trying to cover it with her hands, giving up on pretending that she was anything but the proud mother she was going to be. She nodded and reached for James' hands, dragging him closer before laying them on her stomach. Her felt a slight bump, barely there, easily misinterpreted on a housewife but not on Lily, not on his warrior wife who was lean with muscle from fighting a war fresh out of Hogwarts.

James' heart soared. Lily nodded once again and repeated softly, just for the two of them, "James, I'm _pregnant_."

There was a _war_ brewing, a _Dark Lord_ slaughtering muggle-borns and half-bloods and here she was _smiling_ because even though she was about to bring one of those potential victims into the world she was _anticipating being a mother_. She couldn't imagine a more inappropriate, selfish thing.

But judging by the wicked show of teeth on James' face moments before he surged forward and plucked her right out of her chair to swing her 'round and 'round in circles, he was feeling just as selfish as she was.

"We're going to have a baby!"

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And so, on September 1st, 1979, Willow Lillian Potter, first child of James and Lily Potter and goddaughter of Sirius Black, was born with hazel eyes and a tuft of bright red hair, screaming and covered in her mother's blood.

Behind the eyes of the newborn babe was a nineteen year old Harry James Potter, screaming incoherently at Death for basically reincarnating him as a _female_ version of who he _already was_.

It must have been a Tuesday.

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End file.
